


Touches

by meteorfest



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteorfest/pseuds/meteorfest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bluestreak just wants to do his job, but a certain mech is being <i>very</i> distracting. (Originally published November 2008)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touches

**Author's Note:**

> Written based off a plotbunny on livejournal back several years ago. Posting it here before I delete the account it was previously published on.

He was trying to keep his concentration, trying to focus on the task he’d been given, _trying_ not to let himself give them away. It was very difficult, especially with the teasing touch that lingered on his door wing, sending pleasurable signals through his body. He wanted to speak, wanted to tell the one caressing the panel of his door to stop, but he held back, bringing his lower lip in to keep from uttering a word; a great feat for him.  
  
Bluestreak gripped his rifle tighter as the touch slid from the panel of his door wing to the joint on his back. He gave a quiet whimper, the sound only barely audible, but enough that his tormentor was merely encouraged to keep it up and kick it up a notch. The gunner’s faceplates were heating up rapidly, a soft red glow appearing over the otherwise gray metal. As the caresses continued, he attempted to quiet his engine, which was likely going to give away his position with the soft purring echoing from it.  
  
“S-stop it,” he muttered to his tormentor. “You’re going to…”  
  
“Shh,” came a hushed interruption. Then, over an inner communication line, the other mech continued. _//Do you want the others to find out?//_  
  
 _//I **want** //_ Bluestreak replied over the commline, _//to do my job. Prowl’s going to…//  
  
//Forget Prowl. Just enjoy this.//_  
  
The hand that had been stroking the joint between Bluestreak’s door wings sank lower along the gunner’s back, the slow stroke along the metal of his frame bringing a burst of desire to Bluestreak’s spark. A slow, quiet moan escaped the red and grey Datsun and it took all he had not to drop his rifle and return the slow, torturous touches. A second hand joined in, reaching to Bluestreak’s other side and feeling its way along the gunner’s bumper and up to one of his headlights, circling the edges and threatening to pull another, louder moan from the young Autobot.   
  
_//D-do you really have to do this **now**?//_ Bluestreak asked, a light whine to his voice as he spoke over the commline to the other mech.  
  
 _//Why not? I never get to play with you anymore.//_  
  
Bluestreak shuttered his optics and bit back a moan as the hand over his headlight began caressing the underside of his bumper. _//We’re supposed to be waiting for the Prime’s signal.//_ A gasp escaped him as the other mech nipped at his door wing. _//You’re going to get us in...//_  
  
The gunner was cut off by the interruption of another voice on the commlink. This voice was deep, rumbling and very familiar. It was a voice that every Autobot knew; Optimus Prime himself.  
  
 _//In case you haven’t noticed//_ Optimus said, voice all business as he reprimanded the two mechs, _//we are about to attack a Decepticon outpost. I would most appreciate it if you would stop molesting our sniper.//_  
  
Sunstreaker, hearing Optimus over the communication link, gave a disappointed frown and backed off away from Bluestreak. The yellow melee warrior glanced at the grey gunner before turning his blue optics at Optimus in a glare. Bluestreak, on the other hand, gave a bit of a relieved sigh and was about to silently thank Optimus for the interruption.  
  
That was before the Autobot leader continued. _//Or, at the very least, hold off until we are back at base.//_  
  
That brought a grin to Sunstreaker’s lips and the yellow warrior picked up his gun from where he’d left it in favor of playing with Bluestreak. Bluestreak was left gaping across the median at Optimus, who was surely hiding a large grin behind that oh, so convenient mask over his face. A groan escaped the gunner and he silently wished he’d stayed at the base that day.   
  
**-Fin-**


End file.
